


You Take My Breath Away

by qillerkueen



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Coping, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Gay Sex, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Maylor - Freeform, Multi, Mutual Pining, My First Work in This Fandom, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Regret, Scolding, Smut, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, anger issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-09-26 00:49:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qillerkueen/pseuds/qillerkueen
Summary: The story of Roger Taylor and Brian May.Love, fear, fighting, more love.





	1. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first album has just been released and the boys decide to celebrate!

_July 13 - 1973_

 

“I can’t believe it, Bri! Our first album with the band, it’s out there!” Roger was jumping up and down around the flat the two men shared. Their first album, Queen, named after the band, had just been released about twenty minutes ago. Their bandmates, Freddie Mercury and John Deacon would be coming over soon to celebrate.

 Brian watched in fascination of the younger man as he hopped around their small living room, jumping on and over the couch and coffee table; He flinched when Roger had knocked over a small potted plant. “Rog, it’s exciting, yea, but would you calm down?” Brian laughed.

 “How can I calm down? How aren’t you this excited?” Roger ran over to Brian and held out his hands, wanting the guitarist to get up and jump around with him.

 Brian laughed as he grabbed Roger’s hands, “You are such a child, Rog!” Roger pulled him all around their flat, almost making the two of them trip. “Slow down!”

 Roger let Brian’s hand go, and he continued to hop and skip around the kitchen, and in and out of the other rooms in the flat. “You know, this might as well be the best day of my life, Bri,” Roger said, matter-of-factly. “I just wish Fred and Deacy would show up already! They’re bringing the alcohol and the girls.” Roger winked at Brian. Brian just rolled his eyes, walking back into the living room and taking a seat on the beige loveseat.

 As Brian sat down, the buzzer to their flat rang. Roger sprinted over to it, speaking into the intercom, “Hello?"

 “Rog! It’s us, let us up! We brought booze and a crowd!” Freddie’s voice came through the speaker. Roger hit the button that allowed guests to enter.

 A few minutes later, the door open, and in walked in Freddie, followed by John, Veronica (John’s girlfriend), Mary Austin (Freddie’s girlfriend), and a group of girls, who Brian assumed to be prostitutes. Freddie was carrying three bottles of champagne, two boxes of cigarettes (one cigarette was already lit and in the corner of his mouth); John carried the fourth bottle of champagne, and a box of the cheapest beer he could find. Freddie smoothly danced over to the kitchen, placing the alcohol down, same with John. Mary and Veronica took seats on the longer couch in the living room, while the group of girls hung around the kitchen, smoking and opening the champagne.

 Roger grabbed a bottle of beer and opened it quickly, putting it to his mouth and chugging. One of the girls handed him a lit cigarette, which he took after nodding, to say “thank you”. John and Freddie joined the other three in the living room, handing glasses of champagne to Mary and Veronica, and a beer to Brian. Freddie held out a cigarette to Brian, but he declined. He never did like smoking.

 Freddie stood up and held out his champagne glass, “Here’s to us, the greatest band in all of England!”

 “Cheers!” The group held up their glasses, clinking them together. Brian could hear Roger laughing with the girls in the kitchen. He sighed, he didn’t like the drummer’s habit of having multiple girls at once. The guitarist wasn’t exactly sure why it made him uncomfortable; It wasn’t like he was jealous of Roger, in either way. He shook his head and tried to get the thought out of his mind. Brian took a swig of his beer, and let himself relax with his friends.


	2. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger has a hangover, and their morning doesn't end well.

_July 14 - 1973_

 

Roger woke up with what he decided was the worst migraine he had ever had. He could barely even open his eyes, for the light like shone through the window in his bedroom hurt his eyes. He groaned and grabbed his pillow, quickly covering his face with it. Roger sighed in relief as darkness took over his vision. He tried to drift off to sleep again, but the pounding pain in his head had other plans. Roger threw his pillow at his door, the pillow making a soft ‘thunk’ as it hit the door, and then the ground. Roger sat up, blood pumping to his head and causing even more pain. He thought about the events that took place last night, and he tried to count how many drinks he had.

“ _Too many,_ ” He thought to himself. “ _I really have to slow down on my drinking..._ ” Roger sauntered over to his bedroom door, kicking the pillow out of his way. He took a deep breath and slowly opened his door; His room was directly next to the living room, so if anyone was in there, they were sure to see the shit show named Roger.

He flinched when his door made an awful creak. Roger looked up into the living room, seeing only one pair of eyes looking at him- Brian’s.

“Ah, good morning, sleepy head!” The guitarist said cheerfully, completely aware of Roger’s state, and ready to ridicule and scold him for his behavior.

“Would ya just fuck off for a little bit, Bri?” The drummer glared at him and walked in the direction of their bathroom. Roger grumbled and tried to ignore Brian, who had gotten up from his seat and followed him down the hallway. Roger shakily flicked on the bathroom light, trying to keep his eyes open as long as possible without hurting them.

Brian leaned in the doorway of their bathroom, watching Roger stumble around. “Need some help there, mate?” He chuckled softly.

“I thought I told you to fuck off,” Roger replied. He had managed to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste from the cabinet, but he struggled to get the toothpaste on. His hands were just too shaky.

After a few minutes of trying, and Brian watching in fascination, Roger threw his toothbrush and toothpaste against the shower curtain, the two items falling to the floor. Roger placed his hands on the sink counter, trying to calm his breathing, and also trying not to let tears fall.

Brian stopped laughing and his expression softened, feeling bad for the blond man before him. He walked over to where Roger’s things landed and picked them up, bringing them back over to the sink. He quickly rinsed them and finally put the toothpaste on, handing the brush to Roger.

Roger stared at Brian and reluctantly took his toothbrush from the older man’s hand. Brian smiled at his friend, and only stayed for a moment more before exiting the bathroom. Brian had walked down the hallway a bit, but quickly turned around and peered his head back into the bathroom.

“You’re welcome, Rog.” Brian’s head disappeared afterward. Roger only muttered back.

 

\----------

 

Brian was in the kitchen, cooking up a nice breakfast for the two of them. God knows that the two of them needed to eat, especially Roger. The guitarist hummed some of their songs as he cooked, and soon he just started to hum a new melody.

He hadn’t heard Roger walk into the kitchen, so when Brian turned around, he nearly dropped his pan.

“Oi, Rog, maybe say something next time? I nearly dropped our breakfast!” Brian carefully placed the egg-filled pan on the counter.

“Sorry,” Roger said quietly. His head rested in his hand, his elbow on the counter.

“Anyways, I made us some toasts, eggs, hash, and bacon for you.” Brian put Roger’s portions of food onto a plate and slid it over to him. He then took some for himself and sat down next to Roger on another stool. Brian started eating and only turned his head when he noticed that Roger hadn’t even picked up his fork. “Something wrong, mate?”

Roger looked up in surprise like he had spaced out. “Ah, um, nothing. I’m alright.”

Brian knew that was a load of shit. He placed his fork down and swiveled his stool so he faced Roger. “Talk to me, Rog. What’s going on in that head of yours?” Brian leaned on the counter, trying to get a better view of Roger’s face.

“I said nothing, Bri. I’m fine, just peachy.” The drummer forced a smile, trying to convince Brian that he was alright. Brian didn’t buy it for one second.

“You know I’m not letting this go until you say something to me. You can talk to me, Rog. You can always tell me what’s on your mind, what’s bothering you. I’m your _best friend_.”

For some reason, when Brian said ‘best friend’, Roger felt a pang in his heart.

“Bri, leave it alone. I’m fine.” Roger felt anger boiling in his blood. He didn’t like being bothered and pestered. He knew Brian was right, something was wrong, but he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Roger, mate, come on. Talk to me.” Brian placed his hand softly on Roger’s shoulder.

Roger was done, “Just leave me the fuck alone!” Roger jumped backward off his stool, his eyebrows furrowed with anger, but his eyes full of fear and sadness. “I said I’m fine, so just fucking drop it!” He stumbled backward.

Brian was taken aback, he was used to Roger getting mad and yelling when he was drunk, but never when he was sober. Brian got up from his seat as well, trying to take a step towards Roger. “I-I’m sorry, Rog. I shouldn’t have pushed. I just wanted you to talk to me.”

“Well, I don’t want to fucking talk! So just fuck off, for Christ’s sake!” Roger stormed off towards their front door, grabbing his coat and his keys, and quickly slipping on a pair of shoes.

“Where are you going, Roger?” Brian followed him, worried about his friend. “You’re not in the best state to go out, you could get hurt or into trouble.”

“I don’t give a shit, Brian!” Roger whipped around and stared up at the taller man. “I just need to get the fuck out of here, and away from you. I can’t do this today.” Roger stopped yelling, his voice quaking in his last sentence.

“Roger, please, don’t leave. Just relax today, we can watch movies or write some songs, yeah? A-And there’s still breakfast, you need to eat.” Brian tried persuading Roger into staying, his voice becoming softer and smoother.

“No, Brian. Not today, just not today.”

Before Brian could say anything else, Roger was out the door. He sighed and turned around, heading back into the kitchen. He looked at their plates, still full of food. He thought about eating, but he lost his appetite quite a few minutes ago. He cleaned up, dumping the food into the trash. Brian looked over at their liquor cabinet, contemplating. He nodded to himself and grabbed a bottle of red wine, opening it and drinking it straight from the bottle. Brian never did this, he was always careful when he drank. At parties, he only had one or two drinks, and neither of them was strong enough to mess with him. The guitarist took his bottle of wine and went into the living room, flopping onto the couch. He turned on their small television, not caring what channel it was on. He just needed some background noise. He took another gulp or two of the wine and closed his eyes, trying to forget this morning’s events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for the kind comments and kudos on the first chapter! i'm glad yall enjoyed it!


	3. Practice Makes Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen has just announced their first tour, so the boys decide to practice their songs.

_ September 1 - 1973 _

 

It had been a bit under two months since the fight between Brian and Roger, both had long forgotten about it and were back to their normal selves. Freddie had just announced that they were going on tour in twelve days, for their album,  _ Queen I _ . The band was ecstatic. They had also started writing songs for their second album, although some of them had been pre-released years earlier.

The band was in their studio, tuning their instruments and warming up their voices, getting ready to practice their songs.

“Alright my dears, are well all ready?” Freddie floated into the studio room and grabbing his microphone. He looked to John, who nodded, then to Brian, who gave a thumbs up. Freddie looked to Roger, who seemed lost in thought and not paying attention. “Rog? Are you ready?” Roger didn’t respond.

“Oi, Rog!” Brian hit one of Roger’s cymbals, which got the drummer’s attention.

“What-oh-uh, yeah, ready Freddie.” Roger cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on his drumsticks.

“You okay there, Rog?” John asked, concerned for his friend.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Deacy.”

“Good!” Freddie smiled, “Let’s start with ah... _ Keep Yourself Alive _ , hm? Sound good?”

Everyone nodded. Brian started on his guitar, playing that wonderful riff that got the whole band excited. Roger joined in, hitting his drumsticks together, soon followed by Deacy on bass.

“Yeah!” Freddie shouted, jumping around with his famous broken mic stand. “Keep yourself alive! Hey yeah!” 

Roger hit his drums, getting into the beat. He bit his bottom lip and nodded along to Freddie’s singing.

“ _ I was told a million times of all the troubles in my way, but you grow a little wiser, little better every day. But if I crossed a million rivers, and I rode a million, should be where I started- bread and butter for a smile! _ ”

Roger thought about the lyrics. Brian had written the song a bit after the band formed, but before John had joined. During the early days of  _ Queen _ , while it was still  _ Smile _ , they had a different bassist, but he soon left due to creative differences. It was only a few weeks before they found John.

Roger loved hearing Brian play guitar, he thought he was the best in all the world. He could just listen to him play for hours and hours. Brian’s guitar solos were Roger’s favorite part of the songs. 

It was nearing the end of the song, and Roger almost missed his cue to sing, “ _ Do you think you’re better every day? _ ” It was a simple lyric, but Roger really thought it had a deeper meaning than everyone else thought. The lyrics meant a lot to him, he tried to live by them, but he always failed miserably. Sometimes he thought Brian had written the lyrics specifically for him. But Brian probably wrote it for the world. When Brian wrote the song, Roger had only known Brian for about two years; They met in 1968 when  _ Smile  _ was forming, so it made no sense (to Roger) that Brian would write a song for him. Right?

“Alright lads, what song next? Or do you just want to go in order, Fred?” Brian asked, moving one side of his headphones off his ear.

“How about we do  _ Liar _ ? Then we can go back in order, I just need to work on my beat and rhythm.” Roger chimed in.

“Oh, um, sure, Rog,” Brian said. “That alright with you two?” 

John nodded, and so did Freddie.

“Start us off, Rog?”

“You got it!” Roger started playing his drums, with Freddie adding in claps every few beats or so. Brian nodded along to the beat, counting the seconds until he joined in. Freddie was hopping around the studio, this song always got him excited. It was one of his more favorite songs; He wrote it about three years ago, right when the band formed, and John joined a year later. Freddie had written it before he changed his name legally.

The instruments quieted down for Freddie to sing, as it was on the record. “Liar!” Brian and Roger sang.

It went on like this for a couple more hours, the band practiced all their songs, except for Roger’s song,  _ Modern Times Rock ‘n’ Roll.  _ Roger was a bit self conscious about his singing- he thought he wasn’t as good as Brian or Freddie. Well, no one could top Freddie, really. He had a range of four octaves, from  F2 — E6, and including F6 and F5. Freddie preferred to sing in the tenor range, although his speaking voice was in the baritone range. Roger also had a four-octave range, and when he sang, he could get to E5, though normally he sang between E2 and E6. Roger was a tenor, but he amazed people with his falsetto singing range. Brian was especially amazed, Roger’s voice surprised him each time, even if he had heard it a million times before. Brian thought Roger was quite a beautiful man, and he had a beautiful voice to top it all off with. Brian’s voice was quite low, it was the smoothest out of the three of them. They never heard John sing by himself, he usually only did backup vocals with the rest of them, and all their voices mixed together perfectly, so you couldn’t really pick out which one was his.

“Roger, dear, it’s only your song left to do,” Freddie took a quick sip of his champagne. “You ready?”

“Can we hold off on doing that one, Freddie? I’m not feeling it today.” Roger placed his drumsticks down, hopping off his stool. “Let’s just call it a day, we’ve been at this for hours.”

“Alright, but we’re coming back tomorrow morning and starting with your song.”

Roger gulped and sighed. His throat hurt from all the singing he had done today, although it had only been backup vocals.

Brian had watched the conversation between the drummer and singer quietly, wondering why Roger didn’t want to sing. Usually, he’d want to do his songs first.

“I’m heading home now, lads. Good sesh today. See you tomorrow.” John said, and the group waved goodbye.

“Oh, what time is it? Six? I bet there’s a party going on somewhere.” Freddie thought aloud.

“Don’t get too blasted, Fred. It’s Tuesday and we have practice tomorrow as you said.” Brian reminded him.

“Oh, ye have little faith, Brian! I can handle myself.” Freddie placed his hand over his heart, faking offense. Brian chuckled.

“Are you sure Mary is alright with you going out tonight? Wouldn’t she want you home?” Roger asked.

“Mary is visiting family out of town, she won’t be home for a week or so.” 

“Alright, then. Don’t get into too much trouble, mate.” Roger took a sip of water.

“Goodbye, my darlings~!” Freddie sang as he left the studio, leaving Brian and Roger alone.

Roger picked up his coat, putting it on. He then put his drumsticks into his pocket and grabbed out his car keys. He cleared his throat and turned to Brian, who still had his guitar strapped on.

“Man, you take bloody forever! Come on Brian, I’d like to get home and eat and drink and smoke.”

Brian sighed, “Are you alright, Rog? You were acting a little out of character earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t want to do your song. Are you having seconds thoughts on playing it during the tour?”

“What? No! I’ll play it, I just didn’t want to today. My uh, throat hurts.” Roger cleared his throat, but that only made the pain worse. He took a longer sip of water.

“I bet it’s all that smoking you do. It isn’t good for you. You of all people should know this, Mr. Dentist and biology student.”

Brian made a good point, but Roger wouldn’t have any of it. “First of all- I was  _ not  _ a dentist.”

Brian laughed, he loved making fun of Roger for going into dentistry. It doesn’t fit Roger’s current personality and character, or his habits. “Whatever you say, Rog.”

“Oh, shut it, May.” Roger picked up a paper cut from the water dispenser and threw it at Brian playfully. It just barely grazed his face. 

“Oi! Watch it, Taylor!” Brian picked up the cup and threw it back at Roger; The cup hit him directly in the middle of his forehead.

“You wanna fight, mate? ‘Cause we can fight!” Roger jumped into a fighting stance, his fists out and a smile plastered on his face. Brian shook his head at the younger man’s childish behavior.

“Roger, you know you’d lose in a fight. Don’t do this, mate.” Brian finally put down his guitar, then placed his hands on his hips. He only had four inches on Roger, and even though he wasn’t as muscular as Roger, he would still win a fight. He knows from past experience. “This won’t end well for you.”

“You’re no fun.” Roger pouted.

“Come on, let’s head home. I’ll cook a nice dinner, yeah? Maybe we can watch a movie or something, you can choose.” Brian tried to bargain with the feisty drummer.

“Fiiiiine!” Roger gave in quite easily. He watched as Brian quickly put on his coat. Roger bit his lip, looking up and down Brian’s tall and skinny body. Roger was a bit self concious about his body. He wasn’t as skinny as Brian, but he wished he was. Roger had some muscle, but all the drinking and smoking he did wore down his body.

“Ready to go?” Brian asked. Roger nodded in response. “After you, then.” Brian held open the door.

“Why thank you, sir.” Roger giggled. Brian winked, making Roger blush. He quickly put his head down to hide the redness of his face. Brian smiled as the two walked out to Roger’s car.

“Would you mind driving normally tonight? I’d like to get home in one piece,” Brian referenced Roger’s driving style, for it was a bit more on the wild side. Roger liked going above the speed limit, testing Brian’s patience and fear. Roger was never scared of getting into a car crash, he had good control of his car.

“You’re such a grandma! But alright- only since you asked so nicely.” Roger teased. He turned on the radio, and one of the band’s songs just happened to be playing. Roger gasped and turned to Brian, “Bri! Do you hear that?”

The guitarist was as equally excited. They had only released their first album two months ago, and it was already on the radio. “Yeah, Rog. That’s amazing.” He smiled. Roger sang along. Brian listened to Roger’s voice, smiling at the drummer’s talent.

The song was actually one that Brian himself wrote,  _ The Night Comes Down _ . It was a smoother song, not so rock-n-roll. He paid attention to Roger’s drumming in the background, tapping his foot to the beat. Brian knew this night would end well. It was certainly one of the band’s better days, and one of Roger’s best. Brian looked out the window, his eyes following the scenery on the ride home. He had seen everything on the ride before, but his mood and the atmosphere in the car made everything feel brand new. Brian was grateful for the band, grateful for Roger. This was his life.


	4. Post-Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They just finished their first concert on their tour, and Brian and Roger head back to their hotel room to have some fun.

_September 13 - 1973_

_Night - Post-Concert_

 

“Holy shit! Wow!” Roger exclaimed backstage. They had just finished the first concert of their album tour for _Queen I_. Roger was full of energy, despite the fact that he had just spent nearly four hours sweating and banging on his drums. Althought, he had had two energy drinks and around three or four bottles of beer, and a shot of vodka. Roger reached for more alcohol that was layed out on the table, but a hand grabbed his wrist before he could get ahold of a bottle.

“You’ve had enough, Rog. Slow down there, yeah?” Brian said. Roger looked up at him and furrowed his eyebrows.

“You’re such a prude, Bri!” The drummer whined.

“Yeah, like I haven’t heard that before,” Brian scoffed. “Let’s just head back to the hotel and get a good night’s rest, Lord knows we need it.” He wiped a bead of sweat that started to roll down the side of his face. Brian was wearing a plain white button-up, with the first two buttons undone. You could see his sweat-covered chest in the opening. He also wore back slacks that hugged his long legs perfectly.

Roger was wearing a patterned blue button-up, with all the buttons undone. His skin was a bit darker than Brian’s, so his sweat made his chest and stomach look golden underneath the light.

“While you two grannies are off sleeping, I’ll be at a party!” Freddie laughed. He was most likely off to a random stranger’s home, only there to drink, smoke, and make friends.

“What about you, John?” Roger asked the bassist. John never volunteered to go to a party, he only went when it was a band party, or if his girlfriend was there.

“I’m going to the hotel as well, Veronica and I are just going to relax.”

“Ugh, Deacy, you are so _boring_! Live a little, get drunk! Have a smoke, get high! Do something _sinful_ for once!” Freddie exclaimed, shaking John by the shoulders.

“Not tonight, Fred. Goodnight, Rog. Night, Bri.”

“Well, I’m off then! See you two in the morning!” Freddie quickly left with a group friends.

“Right, then...Shall we catch a taxi?” Brian turned to Roger, who had managed to grab a bottle of beer while Freddie was complaining about John’s boringness. “Rog! Put that down.”

Roger’s eyes widened as he realized he had been caught, and he quickly tried to down the rest of the contents of his bottle. Brian grabbed it, but it only had a drop or two left. Roger smirked. Brian sighed, defeated. He knew that when they got back to the hotel, Roger would manage to find more alcohol, and proceed to get shitfaced. It was common for the blond after a show, his mind and body was always filled with adrenaline.

“Let’s go!” Roger dragged Brian out of the venue and out to the street, hailing a taxi.

\----------

Fortunately for Brian, they both made it back to their shared hotel room in one piece. Unfortately for Brian, as soon as he got the door open, Roger made a beeline for their complimentary booze. The taller man watched in disbelief as Roger opened a bottle of vodka, pouring it out into four shot glasses.

“Come on, Bri! Have a couple shots with me!” Roger pointed to the glasses. Brian sighed and reluctantly walked over to the counter. It was only a few shots, what harm could it do?

Unbeknowst to Brian, this vodka was _extremely_ strong, stronger than any previous vodka he had had in his life. It was even a bit strong for Roger, who drank more, both in quantity and frequency.

Around a half our later, the drummer and the guitarist were laughing and jumping around their hotel room’s living area, music playing from their record player. What album it was, neither of them knew. Brian had gotten a bit excited after his first two shots, and somehow Roger persuaded him to take more. How many more, you ask? Who fuckin’ knows.

Now both Roger and Brian were shitfaced, the complete opposite of Brian’s original plan. The two of them were supposed to be sound asleep in their separate beds, getting rested for their show the next day.

“Bri-Bri, liiisten,” Roger slurred, sloshing around a beer bottle in his hand. “You are my best friend mate, I love you so so much.”

Brian giggled, “I love you too, Rog!” He had worn down a bit, so he sat down on the couch, watching Roger, who had dropped his beer bottle onto the ground.

“No, Bri, I really _love_ you,” Roger sat down next to his best friend, a bit closer than normal; He was practically on top of the older man. “M-More than a friend, I think.” Roger leaned in, so close that Brian could feel Roger’s breath on his lips.

“Roger…”

“Shhh, Brian, just be quiet,” Roger closed the gap, pressing his lips against Brian’s softly. Brian was hesitant, but he started to kiss back. After a few moments, Brian moved his lips to Roger’s neck, kissing and sucking on different parts. “Oh, _God_ , Bri…” Roger moaned. Brian grabbed the drummer’s hips and moved him so Roger was straddling his lap. The blond man began grinding against the brunet, making both of them groan.

“Rog, not here, t-the bed..” Brian gasped out. Roger nodded in agreement and quickly got off him, running to the bed. Brian followed him, unbuttoning his shirt completely, tossing it somewhere in the room. Roger slipped his own shirt off and began taking off his pants, leaving himself in only his boxers. Brian sat down on the bed, his jeans still on.

Roger kneeled in front of Brian, unbuttoning his pants. “Are you sure you want to do this, Bri?” The kneeled man had sobered up enough to remember to ask him for consent. They were still drunk enough to forget the night’s events in the morning, though.

Brian nodded excitedly, “Oh, God, yes. Just do it, Rog. Suck me off, please, pretty please.”

Roger wasted no time in doing so, he took out Brian’s hard cock from beneath his boxers, and got straight to sucking off the older man. Brian came a couple minutes later, gasping.

“On the bed, Roger. Hands and knees.”

Roger did as he was told. Brian was surprised at Roger’s obedience; Usually he’d say something snarky back or protest.

“Such a good boy, Rog…” The young man moaned at the praise.

“Fuck me, Brian. Fuck me hard.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Brian pulled down Roger’s boxers and quickly put his cock in, taking no time to prepare him.

“Bri! Shit- a little warning next time!” Roger groaned. He didn’t need preparation, really. He had anal sex before.

“S-Sorryy…” Brian moaned, too lost in pleasure to truly care. This was his first time with a man- his first time with Roger. His moans mixed with Roger’s, the smell of sweat and sex filling the room.

A few minutes later, they both came and collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily.

“ _Holy shit_ , that was...” Roger was at a loss for words. Brian nodded,

“ _Amazing_.” He turned and kissed Roger on the cheek. “We definitely need to sleep now.”

“I love you, Brian,” Roger said, but Brian had already passed out. Roger covered the two of them with the comforter and quickly drifted off to sleep.


	5. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Brian wake up and recall the previous night's events.

_September 14 - 1973_

_Early Morning_

 

“What the fuck? What the fuck!” Roger jumped out of the bed. He had woken to a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. He saw that it was Brian, his bandmate, his best friend, his _straight_ best friend. Roger was scared, confused, and his arse was sore as hell.

Brian slowly woke up, “Hm? Roger? Why are you naked?” He looked down his own body, finding himself completely undressed as well. “We...Did we? No, we didn’t…”

“B-Brian,” Roger started to cry. “Brian we _fucked_!” He started to hyperventilate. He couldn’t process everything, he could hardly remember anything. His head was pounding more than usual.

“Rog, I-” Brian was at a loss for words.

“I-I need some air, oh _God_!” Roger slipped on his boxers and ran out to the balcony, resting his hands on the railing, his heart beating at a higher rate. He sobbed, the cold morning air drying his tears.

Brian was frozen on the bed. He had sex with his best friend while drunk- were they going to remain best friends? “I can’t believe…I don’t believe it.” He said to himself. He got up and headed straight into the bathroom, turning the water to a boiling temperature. He stepped in, rubbing the sweat and filth off his body.

Roger came back inside and threw on a random shirt and some pants then slipped on his coat and shoes. He left the hotel room, not bothering to take his keys. He only had his wallet, and he planned to find a nearby pub and drink his sorrows away.

 

\----------

 

Brian stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He stood in front of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He had dark circles under his eyes. “Good job, Bri…” He swore at himself. He felt ashamed, but not for the reason he wanted to be ashamed for. Deep inside, he knew he was gay, he knew he was attracted to Roger. He had been since the first time he heard Roger play the drums, way back in 1968, when Smile was forming. Time and Brian had put up posters around Imperial College, where had been attending. Roger was one of the few who responded who they actually liked. He was immediately accepted into the band. Brian fancied him, and Tim knew that well. He would tease Brian about it, knowing that the guitarist got embarrassed easily. Brian never spoke to Roger about his feelings, for Roger was always shagging one girl after another. Roger was a giant flirt and never held back anything.

Brian thought about all the memories he shared with the drummer; He especially thought about all their fights and arguments- some trivial and some big. He recalled their most recent fight, back in July. Brian was still puzzled by it, he wasn’t sure why Roger lashed out. Perhaps Roger didn’t like feeling vulnerable while hungover, and he felt uncomfortable when Brian had helped him out. Brian had just wanted to help Roger, he wanted the younger man to talk about what was wrong. Perhaps if Brian hadn’t pushed so much...

“ _No_ ,” Brian thought. “ _Helping Roger when drunk was a normal thing…_ ” Brian felt a wave of guilt and regret washing over him. He had always wanted to be with Roger, but never like this. Never drunk, never confused, never hurt. Brian shook all negatives thoughts out of his mind and exited the bathroom. He quickly got dressed and walked out to the kitchen, seeing no sign of Roger other than his car keys and hotel room key. Brian saw that Roger’s shoes, coat, and wallet were gone. “Damnit, Rog...You’re going to get blasted again!”

Brian grabbed his own coat and shoes, and all of his keys along with Roger’s. He left the hotel room and ran to the elevator, rapidly pressing on the ‘down’ button. He grew impatient, and ran to the stairs, climbing down them as quickly as he could.

He ignored the “hello’s” that the hotel staff said to him and ran out the hotel front door, looking down both ways of the street. He was unsure of which direction to go, so he ran back inside and over to the concierge.

“Hey- what pub is nearest here?” He asked the man in the suit. Brian’s heartbeat and breath quickened.

“There’s one down the street to the left, a couple blocks over,” The concierge replied. Brian nodded and ran back outside. He sprinted as fast as he could to the pub, almost tripping a few times on the cracks in the sidewalk. Brian found the pub and took a deep breath before heading inside.

It was dimly lit inside, some light music playing the background. There were a few people seated at the bar, engaged in a conversation with the bartender. None of them were Roger. He looked around the small pub, his eyes scanning for a man with blond hair. He spotted his beloved drummer in the corner, right next to the record player. Brian let out a sigh of relief.

He hesitantly walked over to Roger, stopping right next to the table. The blond had his sunglasses on and a beer bottle in his hand. Fortunately for Brian, it was the only visible drink.

“Rog…” The brunet said softly. Roger didn’t look up at him. “Roger, please...Just say something.” Brian took a seat across from Roger, his hands in his lap. The guitarist’s fingers twitched.

“I don’t have anything to say to you, May,” Roger replied harshly. Brian’s heart panged at the use of his last name.

“Roger, please. I know you do. If you want to yell at me, o-or hit me, or anything- just do it! Please, Rog,” Brian begged, tears forming in his eyes. “You’re my best friend, Roger. What happened last night was-”

“Was a mistake,” The drummer took off his glasses, his deep blue eyes suddenly cold and icy. “It was a mistake- that’s it.”

“Was it, though? Think about it- yes, we were drunk, b-but…”

“I’m done talking about this,” Roger placed some cash from his wallet on the table and stood up, straightening out his pants.

Brian stood up as well, not wanting Roger to get away like last time. Brian grabbed the younger man’s wrist, a tight grip on him,“No, we’re not done here. We won’t be done until we actually _talk_ about it.”

“Let the fuck go of me, Brian,” Roger tried to yank his arm away, but Brian’s grip was too strong. “I said I don’t want to talk.”

“I don’t care if you don’t want to- we have to! I’m not letting you or this go! I’ve held off on talking to you on this type of subject for _years_ now, Rog! It’s finally time.”

“Brian, no-”

“Roger   _yes_!”

The two men became quiet, Brian was hopeful. Roger sighed, giving in, “Fine, but after this, we will never talk about it again. No one will know about what happened last night, not John, not Freddie, _no one_.”

“Fine, that’s fine. Okay?” Brian agreed. He let go of Roger’s wrist and sat down.

Roger was hesitant to sit down, he could run away right now if he wanted to. Deep down, he knew they needed to talk about it. He was just too hurt and dazed to actually want to. He just wanted to drink and forget everything; But he complied to Brian’s wishes and sat down, “Talk.”

“Roger, there are things I’ve never told you. I’ve been so scared to. I’m terrified of the thought of our friendship stopping. Losing you would kill me, Roger. You’re my best friend...”

Roger was taken aback. He didn’t want to believe Brian, but he could hear truthfulness and sincereness in his voice, “I…”

“Last night, you said something. You said you loved me, Rog. _Really_ loved me, not as a friend,” Brian recalled. “A-And I said that I loved you too…” His voice faltered.

“What I said was true, Brian. I’m so sorry, but it’s true…” Roger cried.

“What- Roger, you never...The girls? The groupies? The constant flirting?”

“It was a show, Brian! A facade, a big fat bloody lie!”

“I don’t understand…”

“Of course you don’t, no one does, no one will!” Roger had a sudden realization, and shouted, “ I’m gay, Brian! I’m a homosexual, I’m, I-”

“Stop it, Roger. Stop talking.”

“But-”

“Shh, just be quiet. Let me think, let me say something,” Brian pursed his lips. “I should’ve told you this years ago.”

“Told me what?” Roger sniffled.

“I’ve... I’ve fancied you for quite some time, really. When I first heard you play the drums, I fell in love...I’ve been telling myself to get over you for years.”

“Brian, don’t lie to me. Don’t make something up to make me feel better, I don’t need your pity!”

“I’m not lying, Roger! This isn’t pity, this is the truth! I’m madly in love with you, Roger Taylor!” Brian’s voice got louder, and it startled Roger a bit.

“Keep it down, Bri. We’re in public…”

Brian sighed, “Right, sorry.”

“Are you really telling the truth?” Roger asked, hopefulness laced in his voice.

“One-hundred percent, I promise you,” Brian smiled.

“What about the band, Bri? What about our friendship? If we start something serious, a-and it ends for whatever reasons, what’ll happen to us? It’ll ruin everything!” The drummer became worried for his career, for his friendship.

“Nothing bad will happen, I’ll make sure of it. I love you too much to let this end. I let you go before I even had you, and I won’t let that happen again. I love you so, so much.”

“I don’t know what to say...This is so much to take in, Bri. I’ve lied to myself for years, telling myself I was straight, telling myself that a man can’t love another man, especially his best friend.” He shooked his head in disbelief of himself, “I love you, Brian May!”

Brian smiled and laughed, overcome with joy. He stood up and kneeled beside the most beautiful man in the world, “Roger Meddows Taylor, will you do me the honor of becoming my boyfriend, my partner, my love, my life?”

Roger smiled down at him, “Brian, I…I want to so much, but I need time to think about it, to plan the future, our future, the band’s future…”

“I know, I understand. But I promise you, everything will be alright. We’ll be alright, my love,” Brian grabbed Roger’s hands and squeezed them.

“I believe you, Brian.”

“Then say yes, Rog. Say yes, make me yours, be mine. Please, my love. I simply cannot wait another moment!” Brian stared into Roger’s blue eyes, he had never noticed how truly beautiful they were until this moment.

“I-”

“Roger?! Brian? Is it really you guys?” A familiar yet unfamiliar voice rang throughout the small pub, causing the two men to turn their heads.

“ _Tim_?” Brian asked, surprised.

“ _Tim…_ ” Roger gasped out.

“Hey, guys! It’s so great to see you!” Tim Staffell, the bassist from _Smile_ , approached Brian and Roger. Brian stood up and held out his hand, which Tim took to shake.

“It’s uh- it’s very nice to see you, Tim. It’s been quite some time,” Brian was friendly. He had liked Tim, both as a person and a bassist. “What’re you doing here?”

“I was in town visiting some family, and I decided to grab a quick drink.”

“At uh,” Brian glanced at the clock, “Nine in the morn?”

Tim only shrugged in response, “Roger, it’s nice to see you as well.”

Brian hadn’t noticed that the drummer was quiet. Roger didn’t respond.

“We should have tea sometime, Tim. Catch up, yeah?” Brian proposed.

“Oh, that’d be lovely! I bet you have quite a few things to share, with your band and all,” If Tim was going to be completely honest, he was quite jealous of _Queen’s_ success. Perhaps, if he hadn’t left, the band wouldn’t be anything. They would still be playing at colleges and local pubs, small venues, and birthday parties.

Roger didn’t like Tim. He hadn’t from the moment they meant. Tim Staffell had this strange aura, something was off with him, and Roger could tell. It wasn’t until a few months after joining _Smile_ that Roger figured it out. Tim knew that Roger was gay, and he had asked out the blond. Roger said yes, wanting to have his first experience in a gay relationship. Quickly, their relationship turned sour. Tim turned Roger to alcohol and drug usage. In Roger’s memories, Tim had been abusive, both physically and mentally/emotionally. The two never told Brian about their relationship. Roger was trapped in the relationship until 1970 when the band broke up and Tim left to join another band. After that, Roger swore to never love another man, and he switched to women. He knew he was still gay, but all the women were distractions from his horrible memories. Of course, he would never tell anyone about this, especially not Brian.

“Rog, you going to say hello to Tim?” Brian nudged the younger man, who seemed shaken and lost in thought.

Roger straightened his posture, “Hello, Timothy.”

“Ouch, using the full name, huh?” Tim bent down and whispered into Roger’s ear, “ _You’re worthless, Roggie._ ” He stood back up with a smile and turned back to Brian.

Roger knew this wasn’t true; He knew he was loved by many people, yet he couldn’t help but be affected by Tim’s harsh words.

“So, Tim, tea sometime? I’ll call you when I have a free moment,” Brian said.

“I can’t wait. Goodbye, Bri. Goodbye, Roggie,” Tim nodded to Brian and waved at Roger. Roger shakily waved back.

“What was that about, Rog?” Brian looked down at Roger, who seemed to become pale. “You alright there, my love?”

“Hm? Yes-yeah, ‘m fine.”

“It was quite nice to see Tim after all this time, wasn’t it?”

“If you say so…” Roger muttered.

“So, since Tim interrupted us, I didn’t get your answer,” Brian remembered.

“What answer?”

“Your answer to my question, Rog. Will you be mine?” The curly-haired brunet bit his lip, awaiting Roger’s response.

Roger took a deep breath, trying to forget about Tim and his horrible experience in a gay relationship, but the pounding pain in his head wouldn’t let him, “ _Maybe Brian will be better. No, Brian will be better._ ” He thought to himself.

“Well?” Brian couldn’t lie, he was growing impatient.

Roger felt sweat on his forehead, he felt his heart race, his head pound, “B-Bri, I don’t feel too well…I think I-”

Roger passed out.


	6. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian feels like this is his fault.

 

_ September 14 - 1973 _

_ Mid Morning _

 

“Blood alcohol level?”

“Zero point twenty-seven.”

“How many drinks has he had in the past day?”

“It’s unknown, his friends say they weren’t counting, however, they say it was normal for him to drink a lot, especially when emotionally disturbed.”

“Doc, his heart rate is increasing rapidly.”

“Put an oxygen mask on him, quickly. We have to get him into intensive care immediately before he collapses again.”

“What’s his temperature?”

“It was one-hundred a few minutes ago, but it’s dropping to below ninety-four.”

“Christ, how long was the delay from the call to the arrival?”

“About twenty minutes, doc.”

“Damn...Who’s here with him?”

“His friends, ah, Brian May and John Deacon.”

“Why do those names sound so familiar? What’s the patient’s name?”

“Roger M. Taylor, sir, he’s only twenty-four.”

“Aren’t they those fellows from that band- ah, what’s the name? Queen! My niece listens to their album a lot.”

“Heart rate increasing! Go, quickly! Pump his stomach, then put an IV in his arm.”

 

\----------

 

Brian tapped his foot nervously and bit on his nails, staring at the floor. John sat beside him, equally as nervous on the inside, but he seemed calm on the outside. Their friend, their bandmate, was practically dying in the hospital. Brian couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault.

“ _ If I hadn’t done anything to him, said anything...He wouldn’t be like this. He’d be fine, we’d be getting ready for the concert tonight… _ ” Brian thought. His eyes widened, “John, the concert tonight! Shit, Rog won’t be able to perform! Freddie is going to be so upset- oh, what’ll we tell everyone who bought a ticket? Oh, bloody hell!” He shouted, cursing himself.

“Brian, the concert is the least of our worries. I’ll call Freddie and let him know what’s happening. Right now, Roger needs us here, not worrying about the concert and beating ourselves up,” John tried to comfort his upset friend.

“You mean you  _ haven’t  _ told Fred?”

“No, he got back to our hotel room early this morning, hungover. He was asleep when I got your call. It’s been a while, he’s bound to be awake. I’ll go find a phone somewhere and call him. Just relax, Bri. I’ll be right back,” Deacy patted Brian on the shoulder and walked off to find the nearest payphone.

“ _ Relax? How can I relax? _ ” His mind was racing. Brian looked around the emergency room waiting room. There were only a few people there, which made Brian feel a bit better. There was a small family of four, consisting of a mother and father, along with what seemed to be their twin daughters. A couple seats over was an older woman, possibly somebody’s grandmother. Directly across from Brian was a young woman, possibly around the guitarist’s own age. The woman was staring at him, and it made Brian uncomfortable, “Um, lady, do you mind not staring?”

The woman’s eyes widened, redness setting over her face from embarrassment, “S-Sorry! I just...I’m a fan, actually. Seeing you here surprised me, that’s all.”

“ _ Oh, Lord… _ ”Brian mentally sighed, the last thing he wanted to deal with was a fan. But he just smiled at the woman, trying to be kind.

“You uh, don’t have to sign anything. Seeing that you’re in the emergency room, you’re probably is not the best emotional state,” She smiled, trying to offer her distressed idol some sympathy.

“Thank you, miss. That really means a lot,” Brian smiled back at her. He gazed up at the clock, seeing that only twenty minutes had passed since they arrived at the hospital. He sighed.

“Say, don’t you have a concert tonight?”

“Ah, yeah, I do. But we might have to cancel, unfortunately...I feel so terrible about it. John, our bassist, is talking to Fred now...Who knows how that’s going to go,” Brian bit his lip.

“I noticed that you haven’t mentioned Roger yet. I assume he’s the one being treated? Also, uh, sorry if I’m talking too much or getting too personal.”

“No, it’s alright. I could use someone to talk to. And yeah, it’s Roger...The best way to put it is that he had one too many drinks…” He chuckled, trying to lighten the conversation.

“You’re a very charming man to talk to, Mr. May,” The fan smiled.

“Oh, please, no formalities. Just call me Brian, miss. And your name is…?”

“My name is Chrissie, Chrissie Mullen,” She extended her hand to Brian, which he took.

“Thank you for holding a normal conversation with me, Chrissie. I don’t think I could’ve handled a crazy fan today…” Brian gasped, “Oh, shit, sorry. Was that a bit rude? My sincere apologies, Chrissie.”

She laughed at the easily frightened guitarist, “It’s alright, I take no offense, I completely understand. I’ve come to know that celebrities don’t want to be treated as celebrities in private. And during your friend’s time of need, you need a normal person to talk to.”

Brian found Chrissie quite charming, “Thank you, this really means a lot.”

A medical assistant with a clipboard walked into the waiting room, “Chrissie Mullen?”

Chrissie looked to Brian and gave a short smile, “I best be on my way. Take good care of your bandmates- and yourself, Brian.” She got up from her seat and picked up her purse. She opened it and grabbed out a small paper card, and handed it to Brian, “My business card, it has my work and home telephone on it. If you ever need to talk to someone, call me.”

Brian took the card and smiled at Chrissie, waving goodbye and watched as she walked into the emergency room. Brian was flattered, but more importantly, he was grateful. He didn’t have many people to talk to. Sure, he could talk to Freddie, John, and Roger, but sometimes that wasn’t enough. And his mother surely wasn’t the answer.

Brian didn’t notice that John had walked back into the waiting room, so the bassist’s voice startled him, “Who was that?”

Brian sat up straight and cleared his throat, “Just a fan, Deacy.” He smiled. “What did Freddie say?”

“Well, he’s upset, but he understands. He said he was going to talk to our manager and the venue and concert management to see what we could do. After that, he said he’d come here. I also called Roger’s mother, so she’s on her way here,” John sat back down next to Brian.

“You called his mum?” Brian raised an eyebrow. Roger’s parents weren’t too fond of his career choice, but they had grown to accept it more over the years, seeing how serious it was getting. “She is not going to be happy about this…”

“Winifred said she’d be bringing Roger’s sister too, but not his father. He’s going to be the last to know,” Deacy shuddered at the thought of being scolded by Mr. Taylor for not keeping a better eye on Roger.

“Winifred? You’re on a first-name basis with her? I’m still calling her Mrs. Taylor…” Brian rolled his eyes. Of course, John got to call Mrs. Taylor by her first name- John had no original influence on her son’s career choice. However, Brian did, so she wasn’t too fond of him- or Freddie, for that matter.

“It’s only a matter of time, Bri. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you and you sinful rocker ways,” John teased and elbowed the drummer, who he managed to get to crack a smile.

“Ah, Brian May and er...John Deacon?” Another medical assistant had walked into the living room, this time calling their names. The two men looked at each other, then scrambled to their feet, walking over to her. She smiled, “Mr. Taylor is stable, but he’s unconscious. We have an oxygen mask beside his bed just in case, and an IV is in his arm.”

“What exactly happened?” Brian asked.

“His blood alcohol level was too high for his body to handle, he’s too young to be drinking that much. He collapsed quite a few times. His doctor would actually like to ask you two a few questions before he’ll let you go see your friend if you don’t mind.”

John and Brian nodded, “Of course, we don’t mind.”

The medical assistant smiled at their compliance, “Right then way, then.” She led the two nervous men past the emergency room, down a hallway. Each side of the wall was lined with offices with frosted glass windows and white doors, each labeled with a different doctor’s name. She took them down about three-quarters down the hallway, before stopping in front of an open office. She motioned for them to go inside, which they did. “Take a seat, Doctor Goodwin will be right in.” She closed the door behind them.

Brian and Roger took seats in front of the doctor’s desk. There was nameplate that read   _ Dr. Elias Goodwin, M.D.,  _ with the caduceus symbol in front of his name.

Brian glanced around the room, seeing Dr. Goodwin’s certifications and awards, “Seems like a good and credible doctor…” He whispered to himself, but loud enough for John to hear.

“I think Roger’s in good hands, yeah?” John tried to reassure his nervous friend.

“He better be…” Brian’s comment made Deacy let out a small chuckle, which made Brian smile. “How worried about Roger are you?”

John thought for a second, “Not very, actually. Roger is a strong man, he’ll pull through, I know it. But after he recovers, we should have a very serious conversation with him, just the four of us.”

Dr. Goodwin walked in a moment later, open and closing his office’s door with two soft clicks. He sat down at his desk and placed down a file. From what Brian could see, Roger’s name was labeled on the manila folder, “Greetings, gents. I am Dr. Elias Goodwin, but you already knew that. I’ve been in charge of taking care of your friend, Roger Taylor.” He held out his hand to both John and Brian, and they both nervously shook it.

“ _ His hands are cold… _ ” Brian thought.

Dr. Goodwin was a bit of an older man, perhaps in his mid to late forties. His hair seemed to be greying already, and his face had a few wrinkles on it, specifically in the corners of his eyes. John assumed it was from smiling; John had a couple of light wrinkles in the same place- for he smiled a lot.

“Mr. Taylor is in a better state than he was when he arrived, that’s definite. He seems to be recovering quite well, but we’re keeping a close on him in case he collapses again,” Dr. Goodwin opened the file and quickly scanned over it. “He had a blood alcohol level of zero point twenty-seven; If it had been around zero point thirty-seven, we’d be more worried.”

“Um, sorry, but what do you mean by that? More worried?” Brian raised an eyebrow.

“Your friend had a high level, yes, but fortunately enough for him, it wasn’t life-threatening.”

John was confused, “But he collapsed- that’s what the nurse said.”

“The alcohol wasn’t the only thing we found in his system...There seemed to be a small trace of ah,  _ cocaine _ ,” The doctor spoke stiffly. The two men were dumbfounded- Roger, doing drugs? It simply wasn’t believable.

“Cocaine? Surely, you’re joking. Roger doesn’t do drugs!” Brian was upset.

“I’m sorry, Mr. May, but that’s what we found. The amount of alcohol didn’t quite mix well with the drugs, that’s what caused his collapsing and other problems. Normally, a man his age with that blood alcohol content would only be extremely drunk. For Mr. Taylor, it was more than just drunk.”

Brian looked at John, who only shook his head and shrugged.

“Gentlemen, I’m going to ask you a few personal questions about Roger Taylor and his history of substance abuse.”

“ _ Substance abuse? _ ”

“I assume this isn’t the first time he’s drank this much, or at all. But as you expressed earlier, you didn’t know about his drug use. Now, on a daily basis, how much did Roger drink?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the positivity in the comments and the kudos! and sorry, i had to stop the chapter there- but there is a part two coming out very soon!


	7. Waiting Game (Hospital Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They wait for Roger to wake up

_ September 14 - 1973 _

_ Mid Morning Continuance _

 

“Ehm...Well, I wouldn’t say it was  _ daily  _ that he drank...But he drank often enough,” Brian sighed.

“It really depended on the reason he was drinking. He drank during shows and parties, sometimes during dinner-” John started, but was cut off by the doctor.

“Did Mr. Taylor ever drink due to emotional disturbance? Perhaps to forget an event or a sour memory?”

Brian gulped, he knew this was coming, “Yeah, he uh...He did.” Brian huffed and turned to John, “Deacy, we just have to tell him. Roger has a problem and we know it- we’ve known it for years now. It’s gotten to the point of hospitalization- we have to do something before...Before he bloody  _ dies _ !”

John sighed and nodded. He knew his friend was right. They turned back to the doctor, who had been writing everything down.

Dr. Goodwin looked up, “So, is there anything in either Mr. Taylor’s past- or present, for that matter- that would drive him to drink to...Well, drink to forget?”

Brian winced at the doctor’s phrasing, but he knew that was the right way to put it, “Roger is very quiet about his past before the band...I honestly don’t even know much about his childhood, for that matter. He’s my best friend...And yet I don’t know shit about him.” Brian shook his head at himself in disbelief. After years of knowing Roger, the only thing he could recall Roger telling him about his past was that he first learned to play the guitar, not the drums. “I feel terrible…”

John placed a sympathetic hand on the distressed guitarist’s shoulder, rubbing it, “It’s alright, Brian.”

“How about any past relationship? Perhaps a girlfriend went crazy?” The doctor chuckled; Brian and John did not.

They both tried to think about any serious partners Roger may have had, yet none came to mind.

Then, as if a little lightbulb went off, Brian recalled the way his special little Drummer reacted when they saw Tim Staffell, just a few hours before.

“Tim! It must’ve been Tim!” Brian shouted.

“Staffell? The bassist from your first band?” John raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, it’s Tim. W-We saw him this morning at a pub down the street from the hotel, Roger started acting funny when he approached us. Then...Tim bent down and whispered something into Rog’s ear, and a few minutes later, he passed out,” Brian was glad he remembered the early morning’s events but angry at the same time. How had he not really noticed how Roger was acting? Sure, they were having a sensitive conversation, but…

“Tim uh...Staffell, was it? Are you sure he had gotten intimate with Mr. Taylor?” Dr. Goodwin asked.

“I’m not one-hundred percent positive, but I’m pretty sure. They must’ve kept it a secret from me. Oh, poor Roger…” Brian felt tears running down his cheeks. He felt absolutely awful and terrible for being so blind and naive.

“Alright, then. We’ll have to confirm some things with Mr. Taylor when he awakes. You two can go and be in his room, but don’t disturb his sleep. I’ll have a nurse come to take you there. Thank you, gentlemen,” Dr. Goodwin shook their hands once more before exiting. The two bandmates sat in silence, awaiting the nurse that would take them to their hurt bandmate.

 

\----------

 

Brian and John sat beside Roger’s hospital bed, watching him sleep peacefully. The room was silent except for the slow (but normal) beeping of the heart rate monitor, and Roger’s quiet snoring. Brian smiled, happy that his best friend, and the love of his life, was okay and safe.

Roger was motionless, he didn’t stir at all. The only visible movement was his chest rising and falling. With each breath, Roger took, Brian, became calmer. Roger slept for what Brian felt like was ages. He grew impatient, wanting his little blond to wake up and look at him with his deep blue eyes. Oh, how Brian loved Roger’s eyes. They were such a pretty shade of blue, much like the ocean. Brian could stare at them for hours on end, he’d love to see what they looked like in different lighting.

Brian moved his gaze from Roger’s closed eyelids to his golden hair, how it perfectly framed his face. Though Brian called him a blond, Roger’s hair was more on the brown side. But it was golden to Brian. Roger’s terribly cut bangs that went off to the sides, his shaggy long hair. In the summer, Roger’s hair was blonder, but since it was nearing fall, the color of his lovely locks darkened.

Brian looked down Roger’s arms, which poked out of his hospital gown. Oh, how pale he looked. He was slowly gaining his lively color as he recovered, which made Brian extremely happy. Roger looked like a Greek God, so golden and radiating sunshine. There was a slight pink flush to the drummer’s sleeping face. His lips pink, with teeth, just slightly showing.

The enamored guitarist smiled, taking in every single piece of beauty of this magnificent man lying before him. How he longed to kiss him, tell his precious Roger just how must he loved him- how much he was  _ in _  love with him.

Thought Brian wasn’t religious, he prayed silently that Roger woke up. John prayed too, he just wanted everyone to be happy and healthy. Neither of them was sure how Freddie would take this all in. He’d probably throw a party to celebrate the drummer’s recovery, much to Brian’s dismay.

They’d be keeping a close watch on Roger. They couldn’t let him drink so much anymore. He had a problem. A serious, huge problem that needed attention immediately. Brian would take care of Roger until the day he died.

After a few more minutes of silence, a quiet knock at the door got John and Brian’s attention. They turned and saw Freddie, accompanied by Mrs. Taylor and Roger’s sister, Clare. They all had long faces. Brian got up to greet them; Hugging Freddie and Clare, and shaking Mrs. Taylor’s hand.

“How is he?” Mrs. Taylor asked softly, walking over to her sleeping son.

“Stable,” Was all Brian could get out. Any more words and he would for sure start to sob.

“Freddie, you talked to everyone?” John walked over to Freddie, who was still in the doorway.

“They said we can put off the shows for a couple weeks, to let Roger recover well. They don’t want to put pressure on any of us. They said they’d try to contact everyone who bought a ticket, either offering a refund or a new ticket for a later date,” The usually loud singer said in a quiet and calm tone. He didn’t seem freaked out over any of this, at least on the outside.

Brian overheard and nodded, “That’s good, that’s good...I feel so bad about this, for Roger, the staff, and our fans.” Brian wanted to swear at Roger, ask him why he had to be like this, why he had to have a problem, why he hadn’t told Brian anything. But he couldn’t, he knew it was wrong to be mad at the unconscious drummer. Truly, it wasn’t his fault. Roger was a victim. Brian wanted to blame himself for not watching Roger closely when he drank, or how much he drank. He knew that John and Freddie wouldn’t let Brian blame himself, so who was left?

“Tim…” Brian thought to himself.

“What, Brian?” John turned his head.

Or he said that out loud, as he realized. “Tim.” He repeated.

“Tim Staffell?” Freddie questioned, that was the only Tim he knew.

Brian nodded, “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” Anger boiled in his blood.

“Brian, dear, if you kill him, we’re going to have to find another guitarist, and Lord knows there’s no one as good as you. Plus, imagine all the hassle! The courts, the press…” Freddie joked around, trying to lighten the mood in the dimly lit hospital room. “Now, do tell me why you want to do such terrible harm to Tim?”

“He did this to Roger, Fred. He hurt Roger, he drove him to this!” Brian raised his voice. He looked back to Mrs. Taylor and Clare, who hadn’t looked up or paid any attention to the bandmates’ conversation. “They, from what I can only assume and put together, were in a relationship during the days of  _ Smile _ . They hid it from the world, from me. We saw Tim this morning, and Roger was pretty shaken up. That’s when he passed out, that’s when…”

“Bri, sit down,” John guided the angry man to a chair.

Brian sat and put his elbows on his knees, holding his head by his hair. He was angry, he was upset, confused, and scared. What else was Roger hiding from him, from the band? Brian could only imagine. He planned to get every little dirty secret out of the drummer.

“Boys, he’s waking up!” Mrs. Taylor announced. John, Brian and Freddie ran over to Roger’s bed, “Don’t crowd him, you’ll scare him.”

They stood back about a foot or two, patiently watching and waiting.

Brian smiled wide when he saw Roger’s blue, blue eyes, “Oh, Rog…” He said quietly, while a tear slipped down his face.

Freddie wrapped a tight arm around Brian’s arm, squeezing it with joy. John smiled, rubbing Brian’s back.

“Who’s Roger?”


	8. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger recovers.

_ September 14 - 1973 _

_ Mid Morning to Early Afternoon Continuance (Pt. 3) _

 

“ _ What the hell do you mean by ‘who’s Roger’? _ ” Brian felt his heart shatter. This couldn’t be happening. There was tension in the small room, everyone’s eyes were on Roger. Tears spilled from a few, not including Brian’s. He was in too much shock and was too angry. A couple minutes of silence passed for someone said anything.

Roger smiled and chuckled, “I’m just messing with you- I know who I am.”

There were sighs and gasps of relief from everyone, except Brian, “You asshole!” Brian let the tears fall, “I thought you forgot you who were! Even worse- who I am, who we are! Ohmygod…If you weren’t in this condition or situation I’d strangle you!”

Brian’s anger forced a little fear into Roger, but he chuckled at the threat, “I’m sorry Bri. Didn’t mean to upset you, really.”

Roger’s mother swatted her son’s arm, “Roger Meddows Taylor! This isn’t the time for joking!” 

“S-Sorry, mum…” He had winced at the use of his middle name. The other bandmates hadn’t known that-

“Meddows, huh?” John smirked.

“Shut it, Deacy!” Roger sat up but was pushed back down by his sister.

“I quite like it, actually. It’s a beautiful name,” Freddie chimed in.

“It’s- no offense, mum, but really- too feminine! It’s not a rockstar name!” Roger complained.

“Well, we didn’t plan for you to become a rockstar, dear. Anything but…”

“Don’t worry, Rog. We won’t make fun of you  _ that  _ much,” John teased.

Roger grit his teeth and furrowed his eyebrows, shooting an angry look at the bassist, “Fuck you, Deacon. You and your normal middle name.  _ Richard _ .” He looked over to Freddie, “And you don’t even have a middle name!”

Freddie held up his arms, claiming innocence, “Sorry, my dear boy.” Freddie wasn’t sorry.

“And you- Brian! Named after your father, psh. Harold- how boring!”

Brian wanted to keep quiet, but his anger wouldn’t let him, “Be quiet, Taylor. It’ll be better for all of us.”

“Brian!” Freddie gasped at his rudeness. “You apologise right now, that was uncalled for.”

“You know what?” Brian looked straight into Roger’s eyes, “I’m getting a drink.”

“Brian, you can’t. You can’t leave, right now. We’re here to help Roger,” John reminded him. He also didn’t want his other friend having an alcohol problem.

“Help me?” Roger asked, confused. John waved him off, meaning ‘we’ll tell you later.’

Brian ignored John, and headed straight for the hospital room door, but was blocked by John, “Move, Deacy.”

“No, I’m not letting you leave. This day is about Roger- not you and your feelings.”

“Fuck you, let me through,” Brian stared down at him.

“No, Bri.”

Brian grabbed John and forcefully pushed him out of the way, causing the smaller man to crash into the wall, letting out a groan of pain. Brian walked out without looking back.

Roger was confused and sad. He didn’t understand why Brian was so angry.

“John, are you alright?” Freddie asked, grabbing ahold of John’s arm.

“I’m fine…” 

“What the fuck is up with Brian?” Roger asked angrily. Deep down, he was extremely sad that his best friend left, not angry.

Freddie shook his head, “I’m not sure, darling. Perhaps I should go talk to him before he gets himself into trouble or hurt.” They all nodded, so Freddie left and ran after the upset guitarist.

“I’m sorry, Deacy...Maybe if I hadn’t made that joke, Brian wouldn’t have left and pushed you,” Roger fiddled with his fingers.

“No need to apologise, Rog, this wasn’t your fault. Your joke was a little too serious, but Brian is just trying to get through this like we all are. Freddie’ll bring him back and we’ll talk and settle this.”

 

\----------

 

Freddie had caught up with Brian before he had gotten too far. The angry singer grabbed Brian by the shoulder and spun him around, “Just where the hell do you think you’re off to?”

“Not here,” The guitarist muttered, not making eye contact.

“You’re going back into that hospital and apologising to poor Roger. He’s upset that you’ve left- he thinks you hate him!” Freddie exaggerated a bit on the last part, but it was true nonetheless.

“I can’t, Fred. I can’t face him. It hurts too much,” Brian finally looked at him, sadness and anguish in his brown eyes.

“Bri, it’ll be alright, my dear. There’s nothing to fear- nothing at all. Roger needs you, he really needs you in there, and you know it.”

“You’re right...I just, I don’t know...After this morning, I don’t really know what to say to him.”

“Well, what did you say this morning?” Freddie asked.

“I...I said I loved him, Fred. More than a friend.”

Freddie smiled, “Then go tell him that, Brian. Tell him how much you love him.”

And so they walked into the hospital, fear and confidence and love in Brian’s heart. Roger didn’t deserve how Brian treated him just a few minutes. He loved Roger, and deep down he knew Roger loved him- both more than a friend. Brian was terrified to confess his love in front of everyone, but it’s what needed to be done.

They reached the hospital, and headed back down the hallway, stopping right outside Roger’s room.

“Fred, I don’t know if I can do this…”

“Brian, if you can perform in front of a hundred or more people, you can tell one man how you feel. Roger’s important to you, and you’re important to him.”

Freddie spoke nothing but the truth, and Brian knew it. He took a deep breath and walked inside, Freddie following him.

“Brian…” Roger whispered, half smiling at him.

“Rog, I’m so sorry…” Brian took a seat right next to the drummer’s bed, taking his hand. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, I shouldn’t have left you. I’m so sorry. And Deacy, I’m sorry for pushing you, you were just trying to help me.”

“It’s okay, mate. No hard feelings,” John smiled.

Roger squeezed Brian’s hand, “It’s alright, Bri. I understand this is tough…” Roger mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Freddie.

“I love you, Roger. I truly and really do,” Brian smiled at his golden God.

“Bri!” Roger hissed, then whispered, “Not in front of my mum, she doesn’t know…”

“Know?” Mrs. Taylor asked.

Brian felt a wave of confidence wash over him, and he held nothing back, “Mrs. Taylor, I’m madly in love with your son. It would be an honor to have your blessing to have him as my partner in life,”

Winifred pursed her lips, thinking for a moment. Roger was nervous, he didn’t even look at his mother, terrified of what she could respond with.

“Brian, you probably never knew this, but I was always fond of you. Take care of my son, or I’ll hurt you.”

Brian smiled and laughed, tears of joy coming to his eyes. Roger looked up at him, then to his mother. Mrs. Taylor smiled at them.

“Rog…”

“Oh, Brian!” Roger quickly leaned towards Brian and kissed him. Brian smiled and kissed back. Roger pulled away and smiled, “I love you so much, Bri…”

“Not as much as I love you, Roger Meddows Taylor.”

Roger rolled his eyes, “So when do I get the hell out of this hospital? My back is starting to hurt from the awful mattress…”

“Rog, there are some things we need to talk about. Such as your alcohol problem, and um...Well, Tim.”

Roger looked down and sighed, “I know, but…” His eyes widened, “The concert- that’s tonight, innit? Shit- am I going to be able to perform?!”

Freddie walked over, “Roger, it’s canceled. They’re giving you some time to recover properly.”

“What? Shit, you’re kidding…Damn, I’m sorry, guys. I messed up the tour.”

“Roger, don’t sweat over it. Everything will be alright. We just need to focus on your recovery, okay?” John said. Roger nodded.

“I’ll go see when we can take you home, okay?” Brian started to stand up but was pulled back down by Roger.

“Brian, stay here, please...John, could you go check instead?” Roger looked to the bassist.

“Of course, I’ll be right back.” John got up and left to find the nearest nurse.

“Roggie, are you hungry at all? We can get you some food from the cafeteria,” Mrs. Taylor suggested.

Roger made a face of disgust, “Mum, hospital food? Not a chance.”

“Okay, then I can go find a deli and get you a sandwich, maybe some soup?” She offered, which Roger nodded to. “Alright. Clare, come with me. We’ll be right back, Roggie. Oh, gentlemen, would you like something to eat?” She directed the question to Freddie and Brian.

“I’ll take any sandwich, thank you,” Freddie replied.

“Um, I’m not hungry right now, but thank you for offering. I’m sure John will want something, though,” Brian replied.

Mrs. Taylor nodded, “Alright, we’ll go find him and ask. Be back in a jiffy!” And with that, Clare and her mother left, leaving Roger, Brian, and Freddie in the room.

“Bri, you need to eat. Especially with your high metabolism,” Roger pointed out.

“I can get something from the vending machine later, I’m just not hungry right now.”

Roger was skeptical, but let it go. Brian knew how to take care of himself, he was a grown man.

John came back into the room, “The doctor said that Roger could leave in a few hours. Dr. Goodwin will be by in a little bit to talk to Roger.”

“Talk to me? About what?”

“Treatment, Rog. We…” Brian gulped, “We think you’re an alcoholic, Roger.”

“What? No. I know I drink a lot, but I’m not an alcoholic. I’m not addicted- I can stop whenever I want!”

“Well, I’m glad you think that you can stop, dear; We'll just have to see,” Freddie said.

Roger crossed his arms and pouted, thinking about Brian’s accusation and Freddie’s comment, “Freddie drinks a lot too! Why not hound it for it?”

“Because Freddie hasn’t ended up in the hospital like you, love. Just trust us on this, okay?”

Roger was sour, but he nodded, “Thank you, all of you. I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess...I want to fix this, but I’m going to need your help.”

“We’ll always be by your side. You’re our little drummer, we need you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the kind comments! i really didnt expect this to get so popular


	9. Lies and Promises

  _December 30, 1973_

_Night_

 

Roger had yet to go to any sort of therapy for his alcoholism. Every time the band questioned him or reminded him, he brushed them off or came up with an excuse. ‘ _Music comes first_ ’, ‘ _I’m busy this weekend_ ’, ‘ _I forgot_ ’, those sort of excuses. Brian had been keeping a close eye on the blond, making sure that when he drank, he drank very little. Brian didn’t comment on Roger not going to therapy, though. He knew not to push the drummer, for he went off the scale very, very easily. Roger was a feisty little man and was never afraid to unleash his anger when provoked.

Brian thought he was doing a good job of monitoring Roger and his drinking, but he was oh-so-wrong. Roger would sneak drinks in the middle of the night while everyone else slept, and he kept a bottle of vodka in his bedside table. He knew that he needed to stop, for the sake of the band, his relationship with Brian and for his own good. Roger didn’t like to admit it, but the drinking was slowly deteriorating his mind and his health. He lost his appetite and began to eat less, though he already ate very little, to begin with. His body was skinnier, but he had a little bit of a beer gut. Roger had noticed that the bags under his eyes were getting worse, too.

Roger, slightly drunk (unbeknownst to anyone), was sat on the lumpy couch in the living room of the flat he shared with his beloved boyfriend. He squinted at the clock that sat on the mantle above the fireplace (Roger also noticed that his already shit eyesight worsened as well), trying to make out the time. He knew it was late because of the lack of sunlight coming through the window.

Brian came into the room, his pyjamas on, “It’s almost midnight, love. Come to bed. We got to rest for Freddie’s party tomorrow. And I think it’s time we start to remove all the Christmas decorations, yeah?”

Roger slowly turned his head towards Brian, not really paying attention to what he had said, “Uh, yeah...Sounds good.” He turned his attention back to the clock, still trying to read the time. Brian noticed his lover’s peculiar behaviour.

“Rog, you alright there?” He came over and sat down beside the blond. Brian looked back and forth between Roger and the clock. “What’s wrong?”

“Can’t...Can’t, um, can’t…” The drummer lazily lifted his arm at the clock, not knowing that he had basically slurred his words.

Brian leaned towards Roger and sniffed his breath, getting a good smell of alcohol. Brian was saddened, “Roger, did you drink tonight? Where on Earth did you get alcohol? I could’ve sworn I threw it all out…”

Roger mumbled. Now his squinting turned into glaring. “Fu’in clock…”

“Love,” Brian said, placing a hand on Roger’s thigh, “Are you drunk?”

“No’ drunk,” Roger replied, ignoring the _t_ in _not_.

The brunet pursed his lips, “Can you tell the time, mate?” He raised an eyebrow as Roger stood up from the couch and sauntered over to the clock.

“Not fuck’n drunk!” The drummer yelled at the innocent clock, before picking it up and throwing it at a wall, ultimately smashing it to pieces.

“Roger!” Brian quickly stood up and went to Roger, grabbing him by the shoulders. “I think it’s time for you to sleep, eh?” He guided the drunk man to their bedroom and sat him down on the bed, beginning to strip him of his day clothes.

Roger was too spaced out to fight off Brian, so he limply let the older man remove his clothes and change him into his pyjamas.

A few minutes later, Roger was situated on his side of their bed, and Brian on his. Roger had passed out already, but Brian was wide awake.

“What am I going to do with you, Roger?” He whispered to himself. He slowly let himself fall asleep.

 

\----------

 

Roger woke up in bed with a small headache. He was glad he decided to only drink a little bit last night, so he wouldn’t have a noticeable hangover. He got up out of bed and headed to the bathroom, not taking a glance to the other side of the now empty bed.

As the hungover drummer fixed himself up in the bathroom, Brian was quietly sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the daily newspaper. He looked up as a slight hunched-over Roger made his way to the bathroom, but then went back to reading his paper as the blond disappeared from his sight.

Roger splashed his face with cold water and brushed his teeth, ridding his mouth of the mixed taste of alcohol and morning plaque. He rinsed out his mouth and began to brush his unruly hair, tugging on the knots with his hairbrush (yes, he used a brush, not a comb).

Brian played with his mug of coffee, swishing around the drink like a good glass of wine. He sighed, becoming impatient and nervous while waiting for Roger. He planned to confront his boyfriend about the previous night’s events.

Roger left the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway when he saw Brian’s eyes watching his every move from behind the newspaper, his eyes just peeping above it.

“What?” Roger asked, skeptical.

Brian sighed, putting his newspaper down, “We need to talk, Roger. Please sit down.” Brian pointed at the chair across from his.

Slowly, Roger shuffled over to the table and sat down, slumped in his seat. It was at these moments that he wanted to disappear. He never liked these talks. He had many of them when he was younger, and they never seemed to disperse when he got older.

“So...What’s this about?” Roger asked innocently. He truly didn’t know what Brian wanted to talk about, but he had some idea.

“About last night...You drank, Roger. You got drunk.” Brian said flatly.

“I…”

“You were so drunk that when I asked if you could tell the time, you stood up, told the clock you weren’t drunk and then proceeded to smash it against the bloody wall!” Brian was getting angry, but he stopped and cooled himself down.

Roger was at a loss for words, “I’m sorry, Bri…”

“Damn right you should be sorry,” Brian’s voice faltered. He held his face in his hands, beginning to cry. “Damnit, Roger…”

The blond sat there quietly, surprised at Brian for going from serious to angry to sad in a matter of seconds.

“You had me so fucking worried that night. It was months ago, but I think of it every day, and every time you get a drink at a party. You could’ve died, Rog. If you had died I wouldn’t have been able to tell you that I love you. So I tell you every day because I don’t know what day will be your last,” Brian sobbed. “I was so scared when I found out you were drunk last night, Roger. I didn’t let it seep through my mask of calmness and confidence, I didn’t want to...You said you were going to go to therapy, Roger! Or alcoholics anonymous...And you haven’t, and it’s worrying me, it’s worrying Freddie and John, and hell, even Veronica!”

At this point, Roger was crying as well. “I’m going to change things, Brian. Starting in the new year, everything will be different. I’ll clean up my act, I’ll fix things, I’ll fix us, I promise.” Roger leaned forward and took his lover’s hands in his own.

“I love you, Roger. Please keep your promise.”


End file.
